


xanadu.

by winterwinterwinter



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwinterwinter/pseuds/winterwinterwinter
Summary: it's 198X, it's summertime, and it's hot as hell.
Relationships: Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench (Fargo)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	1. chapter one, or "magic man."

**june.**

**i.** try, try, try to understand he’s a magic man.

grady was sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette when wes rode up on his bike. he had a duffel bag on his back and he was wearing those little shorts again, the ones that showed off his legs thigh to ankle, the ones that they got into a row over when it first started getting hot. he waved at grady as he coasted into the half-dead grass of the abramovitz lawn. grady waved back.

 _keep telling you not to,_ wes said, pointing at grady’s cigarette. that was enough to distract grady from his friend’s beautiful legs. grady snarled and flipped him off before tossing the cigarette into the lawn.

 _happy?_ grady said.

 _very,_ wes said, coming to stand before him on the porch after dropping his bike onto the grass. _brought something._

 _weed?_ grady said, even though between the two of them he was more likely to toke. he stood up and brushed off his behind. the porch was always dirty as fuck. he tried not to think too hard about the contrast between their outfits, wes happily baring his legs in the heat, his t-shirt fitting loose over his torso, his stance casual and confident, appearing fully at home in himself. grady absently tugged at the cuffs of his baggy sweatshirt, ignoring how dewy his underarms had gotten.

 _no, POS,_ wes said. grady sneered. wes lifted the strap of the duffel off himself and set it on the grass, kneeling to join it. grady watched as he unzipped it, pulling out a pair of white roller skates and setting them aside before pulling out a red box. he held it toward grady, offering.

 _for me?_ grady said.

wes nodded.

grady took it. it was heavier than he expected. he held it with both hands and looked at wes, who was grinning wide and pretty at him. grady looked back down at the box in his hands and opened it. inside was a pair of red roller skates with white embellishments and white laces. grady’s heart dropped a little as he stared at them.

grady set the box with the skates inside on the little rattan table that sat between the porch chairs. _i told you not to spend your money on me, man,_ grady said.

 _it’s okay,_ wes said. _got them at the thrift shop. now we can skate together._

wes stood, kicking the limp duffel to the side as he stepped onto the porch.

 _can i at least pay you back?_ grady said.

 _no,_ wes said. put them on. _i’ll show you the ropes._

_skating is your thing. i don’t skate._

_you don’t skate because you don’t have skates,_ wes said, _and now you do. put them on._ and he jabbed at grady’s sides with both hands, hitting him right where he knew he was most ticklish. grady twitched and batted his hands away.

 _come on,_ wes said. _i’ll help you get your sea legs and then we can go down to the roller rink. it’ll be fun._

grady stared at wes, skepticism splashed all across his face. he let out a long sigh before he sat back down on the porch, kicking off his boots and grabbing the box from the table. he was taking the skates from the box when wes sat beside him, gently shoving his shoulder.

 _you can’t skate in jeans,_ he said.

“what,” grady said, exasperated already. _why not?_

 _they’ll drag,_ wes said. _get caught in your wheels or something. besides, you’ll get sweaty as fuck and wanna quit sooner. i know you have shorts._

“man,” grady mumbled. _i don’t wanna wear shorts today._

wes touched his arm. _i know,_ he said, _you don’t have to. forget it. just roll up your pant legs._

grady sighed. _no,_ he said. _wait here._ and he stood and walked back into his house. his mother was working and so the house was empty and dark. his room was messy, books and cassettes and blankets and clothes strewn across the floor and every available surface. he unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall down his legs, pooling at his feet. he stepped out of them and over to his dresser, where in the top drawer his only pair of shorts, hand-me-down gym shorts from wes that his mother had bought him before his last growth spurt, was tucked away. grady grabbed them and threw them on - they fit long enough and loose enough that he wasn’t sent into a dark spiral of emotion upon seeing himself in them.

when he walked out onto the porch again, he saw wes laced into his skates, rolling back and forth on the walkway. he grinned when grady returned, gliding back toward the porch. grady sat down to put on his skates.

 _kneepads in the duffel,_ wes said. _you’ll need them._

 _fuck you,_ grady said.

*****

they skated in the streets of grady’s neighborhood until night began to fall, the sun sliding down the sky. grady wobbled to and fro, holding wes’s wrist in an iron grip as he tried to show grady how to skate, how to move. the streetlights came on and wes said they should go to the roller rink, his eyes all hopeful and bright in a way that hit grady right in the belly.

 _i’ve been doing this all day!_ grady said. _my legs are killing me._

 _i’ll carry you,_ wes said.

_you can’t skate and carry me. that’s not fair._

_what’s not fair?_

_you’re so strong!_ grady said.

 _you could be strong too,_ wes said. _maybe if you stopped smoking cigarettes._

 _oh, fuck you,_ grady said. _i’m not going to the roller rink._

 _tomorrow?_ wes said. his expression was so purposefully pathetic - grady could’ve scoffed, but he just looked so desperate and sweet… _why the fuck do you want to go so bad,_ grady thought, the back of his neck all hot.

 _fine,_ grady said. _only if we get some ice cream._

 _anything for you,_ wes said.

grady trudged across the lawn, stopping halfway to bend and rip the knots out of his laces so he could kick off his skates. he ran the rest of the way with them in his hands, dumping them on the porch alongside the kneepads and throwing his boots back on. he stood a moment, looking down at his legs between where the shorts ended and the boots began. he scratched at one hairy kneecap before he ducked just inside the house, just enough to grab his denim jacket off the hook and throw it on.

 _feels weird to walk on solid ground after that,_ grady said as he walked back to where wes stood waiting on the street.

 _you didn’t look too bad,_ wes said. _just need a little work, i think. you’ll get it._

 _thanks,_ grady said.

grady walked and wes skated, gliding slowly alongside him as they went off in search of the ice cream truck that usually haunted the neighborhood all summer. grady kicked at rocks when they sat in his path. wes skated ahead of him, coasting to a stop at the end of the block. grady hurried to catch up. _hear anything?_ wes said.

 _not yet,_ grady said. _just kids and cars._

grady turned so he could look at wes, walking backwards. _where’d you get the skates?_ he said.

 _i told you,_ wes said, _thrift shop. don’t flatter yourself, they were cheap._

 _how much,_ grady said.

_fuck off, you’re not paying me back._

_you wash all those fucking dishes, man, you should spend your money on yourself,_ grady said. he was self-conscious of the fact that the denim jacket he was wearing was also from wes, also from the thrift shop, also bought with wes’s hard-earned dishwashing money. it didn’t make him feel good. _i could just lift this shit if i needed it._

 _you can’t lift a denim jacket,_ wes said.

 _if i tried,_ grady said.

 _if you paid me back i’d just spend it on you again,_ wes said. _i’d buy your lunch or something. you can’t stop me._

 _it’s not fair, though,_ grady said. _i don’t have a job._

 _then get one or stop whining about me being nice to you,_ wes said. _just enjoy it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and shit._

grady’s hands twitched as he thought about what he wanted to say next, whether he would keep kicking up a fuss or back down. as he hesitated, he stumbled, not enough to send him onto the sidewalk but enough that wes jolted a bit, reaching for him. at that same moment he finally heard the distant tinkle of the ice cream truck. he perked up right away, swiveling in his spot, ignoring the way wes still held his arms out like he might still fall.

 _i hear it,_ grady said. _getting closer._

 _i’m buying,_ wes said.

grady’s face fell. _like fuck you are, jesus christ!_ he said.

_do you have your wallet?_

grady did not. his shorts didn’t have pockets and he didn’t make it a habit to leave his wallet in his jacket. he stood up straight, about to sign when wes cut him off: _you can’t lift from an ice cream truck,_ he said.

_then i won’t get anything! jesus!_

_sure you won’t,_ wes said. _please. if you didn’t eat half your body weight in junk every day you’d die._

before grady could rebut, wes had skated ahead of him again. grady stood there for a moment fuming before he shouted after his friend, running to catch up - “how’re you gonna find it if you can’t hear it, asshole!”

grady caught up eventually. wes had mercy on him and waited by the stop sign at the end of the street, cars passing him by. their headlights illuminated him and as grady drew closer his heart hammered harder - it really was everything about wes. his hair and his eyes and his skin and his smile, his arms and his legs and his jaw and his neck, his hands and his laugh and the way he looked when he was thinking about something. grady stumbled again, though there was no excuse for it this time besides how thoroughly enchanted he was.

_walk much?_ wes said.

and the spell was broken. for the moment, at least. it was only ever brief periods of respite. _from being on those stupid skates all day,_ grady said.

 _offer stands,_ wes said, _i’ll carry you._

 _fuck no,_ grady said, though he wouldn’t mind it. to be held like that by wes…

the ice cream truck’s cheery tinkle had been getting closer. grady met wes at the stop sign and he looked both ways, left and right, and he saw the truck down the street, swarmed by kids their age and elementary schoolers, a handful of adults. he didn’t have to point wes in its direction. he’d noticed it too.

 _i’m paying you back for this when we get to my place,_ grady said as they began the walk back, his still-wrapped ice cream sandwich in his pocket while he signed. wes, preoccupied with his bomb pop, rolled his eyes and shook his head. he skated ahead again, leaving grady in the dust once more, and it was then that grady decided he didn’t like roller skates.

but wes looked like the very picture of summer as he skated away in his shorts and his t-shirt with his popsicle. grady slowed, taking his ice cream sandwich and unwrapping it while he admired his friend, his pretty auburn hair, his legs, his carefree attitude. for as much as grady loved him for it he hated him in equal measure. god, he wanted it for himself - the carelessness, the freedom. he crumpled the wrapper in his fist and tossed it into the street. wes spun around to look at him. grady took a bite of his ice cream sandwich.

maybe roller skates were alright.

  
  


_can i sleep over?_ wes said as grady crossed the lawn. he’d kept skating ahead of grady all the way back and he stood casually against the porch railing, his popsicle stick still between his teeth. _don’t have work tomorrow._

 _yeah,_ grady said, _i don’t care. we can watch the lone ranger or something._ when his house had come into sight he’d noticed his mother’s car in the driveway right away.

wes gave a thumbs up.

grady entered ahead of him. “mom,” he called out.

“grady,” she called back. it sounded like she was in the kitchen.

“wes is staying over,” he said.

a beat as grady hung his denim jacket back up. “oh,” his mother said. a flat, short syllable - _oh._ ever since he turned ten, ever since he began asserting himself to her about his boyhood, it had been _oh._

wes was sitting on the bench on the other side of the hall, taking his skates off. the popsicle stick was tucked into the corner of his mouth.

“so yeah,” grady said as wes’s skates clattered to the floor. “gonna hang out in the basement.”

“alright, son.”

son. his mother always called him son when she saw him most as her daughter. grady’d picked up on it a few years ago. she would say it at random moments that grady couldn’t assign a clear pattern to, and he pinned the blame on himself, as he was wont to do. it was because he wasn’t doing enough to be seen as the boy he was, to be embraced as himself. son - she was probably worried because of wes’s presence. ever since he was ten years old she’d been wary of wes. grady thought that she saw him as a ticking time bomb, like she was waiting for him to do something untoward under the guise of _boys being boys_ or something. grady wanted to laugh. like wes would ever try to touch him, would ever want to that way.

wes was sitting on the basement couch flipping through channels, his legs curled up, his chin resting on his knees. grady was stood at the stairs, staring over at him. he shook his head and went over, throwing himself down on the couch, causing trouble on purpose. wes shoved him.

 _lone ranger?_ grady said.

_i’m looking!_

the pair of them fell asleep when _the lone ranger_ reruns gave way to _i love lucy,_ grady barely registering wes’s head on his shoulder as the day hit him all at once and he gave in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, this fanfic will be illustrated. yes i drew the images. song for this chapter was "magic man" by heart.


	2. chapter two, or "how will i know?"

******ii.** falling in love is so bittersweet - this love is strong, why do i feel weak?

after a week or so, grady was pretty good at skating. well, maybe not pretty good. he could skate for ages without tripping or falling on his face, and that, to him, was “pretty good.” they’d gone to the roller rink once, music pulsing around them and through them as they skated in clumsy circles, kids zooming past grady, wes dutifully gliding by his side even though grady could tell he just wanted to break away and skate. grady sat out a few songs, perching himself on one of the velvety benches near the little concession stand, and watched wes skate. he was fast and he was elegant and he was dreamy, so fucking dreamy, under the dancing light of the disco ball. watching him made grady’s heart shudder and his insides twist. he hated it.

grady tried not to think about that night as he skated down to wes’s house. instead he stared at the houses as he skated past them, watched a gaggle of younger kids spill out of the corner store, violently waved off by the owner. he listened to shards of songs playing on car radios as they rolled past - cyndi lauper shrieking from the buick, michael jackson from the jetta, tears for fears from the camry. he turned down the side street they usually used as their shortcut and those sounds were lost.

wes lived in the rougher part of town, in a little house with no upstairs and a tiny little basement. it was just wes and his mother, had been for as long as grady had known them. wes never mentioned a father - sometimes an uncle, sometimes his grandma. grady didn’t even know if wes knew his father’s first name or if he was alive.

meredith wyatt was smoking a cigarette on the porch when grady arrived. she reminded him of himself from the other day, and he wondered if wes nagged her about quitting as much as he did grady.

grady waved. she waved back. she was wearing her work uniform, a conservative green button-up dress. she worked in the old folks’ home past the high school, making scrambled eggs for the geriatrics. 

_he’s here?_ he signed.

_bedroom,_ she said.

_thanks._

grady stomped onto the porch in his skates, too lazy to take them off. he glided through the house, the floors hardwood and linoleum and clear of debris, until he came to wes’s bedroom door. he nudged it open with an elbow and saw him sat on his bed, reading. 

_frankenstein?_ grady spelled.

wes put the book down. _summer reading?_ he said. he slid off his bed and crossed the small room, standing before his friend. 

“oh,” grady said. _it’s june._

_if i get it finished early i don’t have to worry about it,_ wes said, tapping grady’s nose once with his index finger. grady recoiled and glared up at him.

_arcade?_ he said. _or are you too busy being a nerd._

_fuck you,_ wes said. _sit down, let me put on some clothes._ it was then grady noticed he was still in pajamas, or something like that - an aggressively faded t-shirt with a stretched-out neck and boxers.

grady sat on the bed and looked up just in time to see wes whipping his shirt off, tossing it into his laundry basket. he had just a moment to take in all the little blonde freckles across wes’s shoulder blades before wes was putting another shirt on, red with yellow and white stripes. grady looked down at his own hands in his lap. he kicked his feet once, listening to the sound of rustling fabric as wes finished dressing.

_did you burn all your jeans?_ grady said after looking up and seeing wes standing there in denim cutoffs.

_it’s summer,_ wes said. _fuck it._

grady fisted the fabric of his jeans near his knee.

wes noticed. of course, he noticed.

_i can put on pants if you want,_ he said.

_don’t,_ grady said. _it’s always something._

_do you want to talk about it?_

the sunlight from the window above wes’s bed was hitting him just right. he looked like a stupid fucking cherub, a pretty angel, a goddamn vision. he was beautiful. he was handsome.

_not today,_ grady said. _let’s just go play games._

they skated away from wes’s house, wes in his denim cutoffs and t-shirt, grady in his cuffed jeans and formless, gray secondhand sweatshirt.

skating into the arcade was like hitting a wall of sound. it was filled with kids, their age and younger, all screaming and chattering. the games sang and chimed, and on top of it all the radio was playing through the speakers. grady winced when they entered. he looked up at wes and saw he was completely unbothered. _lucky,_ grady thought.

_punch-out,_ wes said, pointing over at the cabinet. there was a kid standing before it, probably ten or so.

_it’s always punch-out with you,_ grady said. he followed wes anyway as he skated over toward the cabinet. he tugged at wes’s sleeve. _never pac-man or pinball or anything._

wes shrugged both shoulders, looking vaguely offended. _i like punch-out,_ he said. _i’m good at it._

_i’m gonna play skee-ball,_ grady said even as he joined wes by the cabinet. they stood either side of the ten-year old, and grady watched him tense up as he played, sparing each of them a glance and recoiling when he saw just how tall wes was. it took him only a few moments before he beefed it, glass joe getting the better of him. the little voices taunted the boy, and he fumbled with his pockets looking for his quarters.

“kid,” grady said, nudging him with the toe-stop of his skate. “how ‘bout you go play something a little more age-appropriate? candyland or something?” grady barely kept himself from wincing. jesus, the sound of his own voice.

“fuck you,” the kid spat, walking off into the crowd.

“fuck you, little bitch,” grady mumbled. he waved his hands in a little _ta-da_ motion, presenting the cabinet to wes. wes nodded at him and stretched his arms before he assumed his position, entering his three initials when prompted, WWR.

grady watched the game for all of one minute before he got bored and decided to wedge himself between the side of the cabinet and the wall, folding himself up, crossing his arms. he watched wes as he played instead. he was far more interesting than the actual game, especially since he was all focused, his brows drawn in concentration. he mostly stood still, jerking from side-to-side every so often when he was caught off-guard. grady shifted his gaze, looking past wes at the sea of kids. there were a handful he recognized from school and then the rest were younger, maybe their brothers and sisters, maybe strange neighborhood kids. across the way he saw buster hornqvist and his brother butch terrorizing some little boy, far worse than what he and wes just did. buster noticed him looking. he grinned and flipped grady off. grady flipped him off in return.

_i wanna play skee-ball,_ grady said when wes broke from the game for a moment.

_i’m not stopping you,_ wes said. _get tickets, win me something._ he dove back in then.

“what’s the fucking point of coming here together if we’re not gonna hang out…,” grady mumbled, far too bitter, as he skated away.

an hour later, grady’s pockets were damn near overflowing with long ribbons of purple tickets. he was gifted with so few talents, and one of them was being very good at skee-ball. there were a few little kids sitting on the unoccupied skee-ball ramps near his watching as he landed his ball in the top-left corner hole again and again.

“how do you _do_ that!” a runty little girl hollered.

grady shrugged.

time ran out. grady tore his stupidly long ribbon of tickets from the dispenser at the front of the machine and stuffed them into his pocket. he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, but when he opened it he realized he’d run out of bills. “shit,” he said.

the crowd of kids dispersed when they realized he couldn’t entertain them any longer. and there was wes, suddenly, leaning against the wall by the skee-ball machines.

_you gonna use those to get me a prize?_ wes said.

_sure am,_ grady said.

they skated over to the prize counter. sitting behind it was nancy cockburn, grady’s intellectual equal. she shared nearly all his classes, had since they were thirteen - advanced math, dumb science, average english. she looked as despondent as ever, glaring at them from under her coke bottle glasses.

“what do you want,” she said, her demeanor a harsh, hilarious contrast to the delighted shouts of children that filled the place.

“well, nance, i want you to count all these tickets,” grady said as he emptied his pockets onto the counter, leaning against it as he finished, “and then i want you to hand me whatever prize i choose.”

nancy grumbled, but she slid off her stool and grabbed a calculator and a pad of paper.

in the end, it was enough tickets to exchange for a brown sack full of candy, a little blue teddy bear about the size of wes’s hand, two pairs of joke glasses with holographic eyes on the lenses, and a little plastic ring that just fit on wes’s pinky finger and still have some left over.

“tickets can also be exchanged for coupons for the photobooth,” nancy mumbled under the watchful eye of her manager, a red-haired twenty-five year old dork.

“uh, okay,” grady said. “can we have some of those?”

“whatever,” nancy said. she took the rest of the tickets and slid two singles across the counter. stamped over george washington’s face in red ink was a mustache and wacky glasses.

“coupons?” grady said.

nancy affected air quotes.

_coupons,_ grady said after pocketing them and skating away from the counter. _photobooth._ he pointed toward it, unoccupied in the corner near the entrance.

wes perked up. _can we do that?_ he said. _now?_

_i don’t give a shit,_ grady said.

grady inserted a dollar into the machine, and they took their prizes into the booth with them, setting them down on the floor by their feet after settling on the hard plastic bench. they each closed the curtain on either side. _what are we gonna do?_ grady said.

wes shrugged and lunged forward to press the button.

“hey!” grady said as wes smiled straight ahead at the camera. “i wasn’t ready, dipshit.” and by the time he was, their four photos had been taken.

grady glared at wes, blindly reaching his arm out of the booth and feeling for the photostrip in the little dispenser. he grabbed it. the first was grady’s indignant face as he said _hey,_ wes grinning beside him. the second was grady explaining that he wasn’t ready, wes’s smile cracking. the third and fourth were two beautiful photos of wes laughing, grady beside him grimacing and looking ugly.

wes plucked the photostrip from grady’s hands. he snickered. _cute,_ he said, pointing at grady’s face in the last photo.

_whatever,_ grady said. _done?_

_isn’t there another coupon?_ wes said. _let’s go again._

_fine._

grady leaned out of the photobooth and managed to contort himself some way so that he could feed the last bill into the machine. he retreated back into the booth, closing the curtain on his side again.

_okay,_ grady said, _gimme a second._

wes shrugged.

grady sat there a moment, thinking about what kind of stupid faces he could make. maybe he’d just flip the camera off four times and ruin every picture, revenge for wes wasting their first go-round. _no,_ he thought, _that’s stupid. just make a dumb face and get it over with._ he leaned forward and pressed the button.

grady sat back and glanced at wes. their eyes met and suddenly time slowed to a crawl.

wes was looking at him in a way that grady was sure he’d never been looked at ever in his entire life. his eyes were all soft and, _jesus_ \- grady didn’t understand it. why was wes looking at him like that? like he wanted to be looking at him. like he was nice to look at.

the camera went off once and neither of them made any note of it. wes was already so close, what with the plastic bench being so small and the booth being so narrow, but he pressed in even closer, bringing them almost nose-to-nose. he raised a hand slow, so slow, and grady watched it out of his peripherals as it came to rest on his cheek. wes’s hand was so warm, so gentle on his face…

the camera went off again. grady looked back up at wes’s face. it felt like his heart might burst from his chest and take off running, it was pumping so hard.

the camera went off again when their lips met. wes’s hand was so familiar and yet so strange in its placement on his cheek, holding him steady, anchoring him. his mouth was soft, his mouth was hot. grady stared at him as they kissed, unable to close his eyes. wes’s eyelids were all pink. grady was awake, knew himself to be awake, but still it felt like he was in a dream. everything around him had faded besides wes, besides his pink eyelids. the world beyond the inside of the photobooth didn’t exist, even the fucking cacophony had died down. for a moment grady thought he might die here, that he might live the rest of his life in the photobooth, in this moment. he woke when he felt the back of his head hit the side of the booth. wes had just kept pressing closer and closer until grady was smashed up against the wall. it felt like crashing back down to earth. it felt like being doused with cold water.

grady broke the kiss first. he stared at wes who stared back, eyes half-lidded. wes smiled all shy and grady thought he might melt - fuck, he already felt like he was melting, the way sweat was dripping from the backs of his knees, his underarms, down his back. wes kissed him again, softer, shorter, just a little peck.

_i’ve wanted to do that forever,_ wes said. he couldn’t stop smiling, it seemed. he looked so happy, so truly happy. the way he was looking at grady, fucking gazing at grady - it made grady sick to look at him. sick - grady suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

grady nearly face-planted on his way out of the photobooth, tripping over his own skates. the music was so loud, the delighted shrieks of the kids and the chimes of the machines even louder. he rushed out the door, struggling along in his skates. he cursed wes for buying them, cursed him for kissing him, cursed him for being the only friend grady had ever had. “why’d you do that,” grady said as he skated clumsily across the parking lot, picking up speed as he went. his eyes filled with tears and he hated himself for it. crying like a fucking baby, crying like a girl. “why the fuck did you do that.”

he was almost out of the strip mall parking lot and crossing the street when he heard wes hollering after him. “hey!” he shouted, his voice uneven in its way. grady didn’t stop. he kept skating. he made it to the sidewalk and quickly crossed the street. “hey!” he sounded closer, but grady didn’t look. the last thing he wanted was wes to see him crying like a bitch.

but, as usual, it didn’t matter what grady wanted. wes came flying down the road, skating past him and turning so that he stood right in grady’s path. he had the paper sack in his hand and grady could see the photostrips peeking out of his pocket. he shoved the sack under his arm so he could sign. _what’s wrong?_ he said.

grady took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. when he put his glasses back on he saw wes looking dumbfounded - _were you crying?_ he said.

“just shut up!” grady said. “go away!”

wes grabbed grady’s wrist. they stared at each other. fuck, grady had never felt so small before in his life.

wes let go of grady’s wrist. _tell me what’s wrong,_ he said.

_you kissed me, you fuck,_ grady said. _that’s what’s wrong._

wes suddenly looked sheepish. no, more than sheepish. he looked downright ashamed, his face all red. _i’m sorry,_ he said. _i shouldn’t have done that. i’m sorry, i’m sorry._

_why’d you do it?_ grady said.

wes ground the toe stop of his skate against the road, his head down. the sack under his arm slid a bit. the trees around them whispered as the breeze made their leaves dance.

_i’ve wanted to kiss you since i was like twelve,_ wes finally said. _you just looked… i couldn’t stop myself. i had to. i’m sorry._

grady laughed an empty, bitter laugh. _you don’t have to be sorry,_ he said. _sorry won’t change what you did._

_i don’t want to change what happened,_ wes said. he looked desperate - gray had never seen him like that. it scared him. wes was strong and fearless and so confident he was almost cocksure, sometimes. _if you really hated it so much i’m sorry. i swear i’m sorry. i’ll never do it again, just please don’t stop being my friend, grady. never again and we can still be friends, i swear._

they stood there staring at each other in their skates. grady felt like an absolute idiot.

_i didn’t hate it,_ he said. _i liked it._

_then why were you crying?_ wes said.

_i’m just… surprised,_ grady said. _you wanted to kiss me._

_who else would i pick?_ wes said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. like grady was dumb for thinking differently. was he? _there’s only you._

_i’m…_ grady hesitated. _you like boys. you’ve always liked boys._

_you’re a boy,_ wes said. _and i like you a whole lot._

_it felt too good to be true,_ grady said.

_it’s not,_ wes said.

grady moved to sign, but he found he was out of protestations, out of excuses.

  
  


_can we be boyfriends?_

grady’s heart was in his throat. they were standing on wes’s porch. wes’s eyes were all big and hopeful, clear green like a pond in spring. grady didn’t want to look at him.

_you wanna be boyfriends?_ grady said.

wes nodded vigorously.

_okay,_ grady said.

wes grinned that beautiful grin of his. grady felt like he might die. after taking a quick look around, looking left and right like he was crossing the street, wes took his face in his hands and kissed him again, long and slow like the first time. grady stiffened in his hold. wes didn’t seem to notice.

_work tomorrow,_ wes said. _see you the day after?_

_sure,_ grady said.

grady left. he glanced back once he was halfway up the street and saw wes standing there on his porch still, watching him as he left. even from far away grady could see him beaming after him. _this boy,_ grady thought, _this boy is going to kill me._

he went home and he screamed and he cried and he tried to make sense of anything he was feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "how will i know" by whitney houston.


End file.
